Ashes Of Asgard
by Raconteur86
Summary: A Loki story. Set a few years after the end of Infinity War. Thanos has been defeated, and the Asgardians are settling in nicely on their new planet. Their and Earth's peace, as it always is, is short lived, however, when an old enemy of Thor's comes back for revenge. *This has also been posted over on AO3*
1. Chapter 1

She let herself float back up into the air again, looking down onto the shattered glass below.

The air.

It felt indescribable. It was real and brisk and it was fresh. The whole open space of it was nearly frightening. But there was another thing there, a sensation she could only think to describe as cold, or at least what she thought real cold would feel like. It bit at the exposed skin on her arms and legs, and wrapped itself around her, pushing its way into the thin material of her dress.

The cold was comforting in an odd way, and as harsh and savage as it was, it was also real and alive with a power that she found she nearly revered.

She held out her hand as a windy gust veered towards her, little white freezing flurries surrounding her skin in a most curious pattern. As if they were testing her. Approving of her.  
They must have, for they left no sooner than they had come, glittering off into oblivion.

She took care to float quickly away from her point of origin after that, knowing that she would be discovered at any second, if she already hadn't been.

The visibility was low, but she let her eyes scan to the little snowy area above the ridge. They were still there, the people. Congregated in some sort of loud sport or celebration around a frozen lake. She found it odd, that the king had himself gathered among them like a normal person, laughing and carrying on. They had been there for quite a few days now, and she was worried, no, terrified that she would miss them before her plans were carried out. It was a relief to see that she had been wrong.

Steeling herself, she let the wind carry her a short way. Close, but not too close. She only needed to find him.

When she was a good enough distance back, she stopped, hovering gently over them all. They hadn't noticed, thankfully for her, so she quickly preoccupied herself with the task of getting down.

The only problem was, she seemed to be stuck there in the air, infinitely floating. At least the first time, there had been a sense of urgency bringing her back, but this round, she was taking it at her leisure.

Unfortunately, this seemed to be working against her.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to push herself towards the ground, only succeeding in rising more. An anxious feeling lept into her throat as she flailed in the thin air.  
In a last ditch effort to calm herself, she closed her eyes. If only the Master could see her now. She was sure he would be very smug about her failure.

Just as he was with her mother's failure.

She sighed, feeling tears come to her eyes for the first time in a long while. Sbe concentrated on her breathing just like her mother had taught her. In. Out. In. Out. Her heart pounded, but she managed to stop herself from going up any more at the very least. As usual, her confidence, or lack thereof, was causing her to falter.

Looking down at the ground, she made a decision, hoping it was for the best. Inhaling once more, she closed her eyes, closing out her thoughts to everything but the gentle tug of gravity that pulled her from the earth below.

The response was almost immediate.

She began to fall, gliding through the air almost deceptively easily. She let herself go for some time, before the ground started getting a little too close for her comfort. Panic crept into her heart once more, and she began to wave her arms in a last ditch effort to stabilize her power again to stop herself. In retrospect, it probably hadn't been a very good idea for her to try this particular thing so soon into her discovery of it, but it was her only option at the moment, and so it was what had to be done.

After a good thirty feet of sputtering in between hovering and falling like a fledgling from a tree, she managed to at least hit the snow with a soft thud, the cold and wet immediately soaking into the backside of her white cotton dress. It took her breath away, and she gasped, immediately beginning to tremble.

She passed a furtive glance back to the frozen lake. The king and his subjects were still oblivious, still making merry. Her only problem was that she had lost sight of the man whom she was here to collect, so she watched them, the people, for a while, appraising them. She had never seen such happiness in all her life. It was more than just a sense of relief as she had been so accustomed to relate that particular emotion to. It was so unlike the smiles on the contenders faces that she had witnessed as she saw them come out of battle or the way they looked after they returned alive from the questionings and the tests. It did not even compare to the aura of delirious satisfaction she had felt emanate from the master from time to time when a plan all came together. None of those experiences compared to the bliss and contentment these people. They were joyous, almost resolute in their happiness. It was immediately foreign to her, but gave her such a great sense of longing and she all she wanted to do was continue sitting there and just watch them. She was loathe to ruin it.

A crunch in the snow directly in front of the woman startled her from her thoughts, and she looked up to find him towering over her. Of course he had sensed her.  
He looked slightly more menacing than he had from a distance when she saw him from the arboretum window, and he glowered down at her, as if expecting her to announce the reason for her sodden, shivering presence.

She scanned him, trying to decide whether he could really be trusted. Whether or not her gut was right. Her perceptions were usually never wrong, but she was wise enough to realize that they could be.

"Aren't you cold?" Her own trembling voice sounded odd to her ears, and she realized just how freezing she actually was. She pointed to his arms, bared in some sort of old, torn leather vest that he wore with not even a shirt underneath it. From what she had perceived of his character in the brief matter of seconds that he had stood there, she imagined it was more for show than anything else.

He smiled, laughing to himself, as if it were a joke only he understood, and she could swear his green eyes had flashed to crimson for the briefest of moments.

He was even more beautiful than she had originally thought.

"I'm never cold." He responded, the intonation of his voice like an anchor to her in the midst of a stormy sea.

He finally seemed to remember his manners and held out a hand to her. She grasped it, lifting herself off of the ground, brushing the wet off of her bottom.

He eyed her curiously. Again he was waiting.

She glanced back to the party, to all of the beautiful happy people, and then to him again.

"I need you to come with me." She whispered.

He nodded once, as if he already knew. She looked down at their hands, still clasped, and began to pull him along in the snow, her slipper clad soaked feet sinking pitifully with every step.

He barked out a laugh, although she knew not why, and she turned to look at him curiously.  
He solemnly pulled her towards him and laid a surprisingly gentle hand on her forehead, probing for answers.  
She permitted him look into her mind, only allowing him to feel her urgency, only showing him were they needed to go. She still wasn't sure if she trusted him yet.

He seemed to be satisfied with the answers for now, as he placed a hand on her upper arm.

"Hold on and don't let go." Was all he said.

She nodded and clasped at his arm for dear life, just as the world dissolved into black.


	2. Chapter 2

They materialized in front of the mountain. The snow flurries had picked up quite a bit, and all she could think about was how much she just wanted to be back inside, no matter what she would find there.

"I came from there." She pointed upward, and the man-the prince looked, spotting the nearly invisible glass dome she had shattered just moments prior to them being here.

He shook her arm that he still held from their short journey and glared down at her.

"What is this place?" He demanded.

She shrugged, as if unaffected by his tone.

"My home."

He crouched down to address her, his raven hair swirling around his shoulders in the icy wind.

"Yes? And how did you get down from there?"

She couldn't take her eyes off of his hair. Reaching out, she gently took one of the waving pieces into her fingers, not noticing as his brow furrowed into surprise and then confusion.

"Soft." She smiled, forgetting his question.

He grasped the wrist of the hand that was in his hair, and pulled her chin so that her eyes were on his mouth.

"How did you get down?"

She sighed and let go.

"I let the wind carry me."

He raised his eyebrows.

"You flew?"

She ignored him, much to his growing annoyance, and pulled him closer to the wall of the mountain, pointing to a smooth grey panel that he had not immediately noticed.

"You can open it." She pointed.

He inspected the panel and eyed her quizzically.

"Is this some sort of door into this facility? How long has this been here, right under our noses?"

She nodded, grabbing onto one of his arms and standing behind him.

He sighed, nearly losing his patience, and reached his hand out. The panel clicked open easily enough, and he managed to shake the young woman off for long enough to pull it open with his hands.

A slight scent of must and stale air emanated from the now gaping hole in the side of the mountain.

"Be careful."

He glanced back at her, noticing that she was wide eyed and shaking, but not from the cold.

He peered into the darkness, unable to get a read on anything inside, so he sent in a double to investigate.

She watched him curiously, studying his face as the double must have been making its way around the inside of the mountain. She had seen that ability of duplication before once, in one of the contenders. It did him little good, however, when the master had caught him- or one of him snooping in his chambers, no doubt searching for some kind of information, any kind of knowledge as to how to defeat him. He wasn't the first to commit that mistake, and his death had not been a quick one.

"What do you see?" She whispered.

He shushed her, and turned as his duplicate came back to him. He began to smile, but it was not amused like before, when she had asked him if he was cold.

"Well, I certainly hope you have had your fun, my dear."

She shook her head in confusion, taking a step back from him.

"If we don't move soon, the master will find us. He'll know we're here. I need your help." She begged.

He laughed, and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the door.

"Would you really like to know what I saw?"

He pushed her inside none too gently, and she yelped, falling to her knees on the hard, cold stone beneath her.

She looked up with a gasp as he came in behind her.

Everything had changed.

They were in an antechamber, one she recognized well. She had just come through this morning to confirm the location of the door.

But the sconces weren't lit. There were only cobwebs and a thick layer of dust covering the walls. The tapestries were tattered, moth eaten.

The prince circled around to face her.

"I would say, if I were to guess, that no one has been where we stand for at least three hundred years, if not more."  
She shook her head again, nearly hyperventilating from the shock.

"No. No. I was just here. I was here." She gazed up at him pleadingly, holding a fist to her chest.

This wasn't right. This wasn't even possible.

He laughed, amused again to her relief.

"I will say, it was an elaborate ruse. Did Thor put you up to this?"

She continued to dart looks around the room, her breath coming in and out in quick puffs.

"The king?" She answered, finally standing up.

He ignored her question, watching her curiously.

"Who are you? I sensed you earlier. I sensed your magic come from here."

She made her way to one of the corner tables and picked up a plate, blowing off years of ancient dust. This couldn't be happening.

Her head shot up as a realization formed in her mind.

Her mother.

She dropped the plate and darted out of the room, leaving the prince behind, pushing her way through the maze of darkened hallways, clawing her way past the cobwebs and clutter. It didn't matter that she couldn't see, she had travelled this way often enough. Turn after turn, sleep after sleep, for such a long time now that she could barely remember what it was like before.

She could hear the prince calling after her, but she ignored him, finally finding her way to the grand room. The room where they proved their worthiness and gazed upon those who had failed.

Holding on to the wall at the entrance of the chamber, she felt out blindly with a shaking hand, locating a little table that held the flint for the sconces. One strike to the stone wall was enough to light whatever was left inside for a little while.

One sconce was enough to show her what she needed to know.

She wasn't sure when the prince finally found her, seated on the ground with her arms around her knees, her low keening sobs echoing off of the insides of the nearly empty chamber, its walls lined with skeletons of the long dead.  
He tried to console her, but when he realized it would be to no avail, he sat there with her, waiting it out.

Once she had calmed herself, she reached out to touch him gently, standing up as the last embers of the light began to burn out.

"What is this room?" He questioned, nodding towards the bodies.

She looked him in the eye, tearing up once more, and he found himself terrified that she would go into hysterics again.

"My mother." She whispered, nodding toward one of the skeletons before she left, going slowly back the way she came.

He didn't say anything to that. He didn't have to.

He left her alone until they reached the dimly lit antechamber that they had come from.

"Are you going to tell me who you are? What were you doing here?"

She wrapped her arms around herself and sighed, feeling very tired all of the sudden. It was growing dark outside, and she had wasted all of their time.

"You-" She pointed at him, "You are Loki of Asgard. You are the prince I saw on the walls. And the king- Thor, I saw him too. I need both of you to help me. But especially you. We are still in danger here."

Loki was beginning to grow exasperated with the whole situation, and by this point, he had half a mind to teleport back to the camp and leave her there for the night.

"Well, at least you know who I am." He rubbed his forehead sighing. "Now, tell me your name, woman."

She sat down on the stone floor, appearing to grow more fatigued by the moment and looked up at him in confusion.

"You mean my designation?"

Loki furrowed his brow. Was she daft?

"Yes, darling. What are you called?"

She yawned, and he realized that she wasn't shivering anymore.  
"In that case, I have no name. My mother simply called me daughter, and I have not yet earned my designation."

She closed her eyes, laying her head into her knees.

Loki touched her skin, realizing far too late that she had been out in the cold for much too long.

"Oh no you don't."

He picked her up in his arms swiftly, shaking her awake.

"Don't go to sleep. Do you hear me? I'm taking us back to my camp where you can be warm."

She nodded, laying her head on his chest, and let him spirit them away into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

She awoke with a throbbing head to the sound of low voices at some point in the night, realizing that she was in a little makeshift bed of some sort, covered in soft warm blankets that were tucked very neatly around her body to keep the heat in.

"She appears to be a drifter of some sort. Claims she came from an abandoned facility just a little ways north from here up in the Galdhøpiggen. That was...mostly all I could get out of her. She seems reluctant to speak much."

"Hm. Could just be another one of the displaced."

"No. I sensed a great deal of power coming from her. There's more to it than that."

"Power? Eir believes her to be human."

"It appears to be so, yes."

"Well, in that case, perhaps we should send her to-"

Unable to keep still for much longer, she stirred, groaning at the growing pain in her temples. Scanning the room, she noted that the walls, ceiling, and floor were lined with some sort of thick canvas, illuminated by a singular softly glowing orb that hung from the ceiling.

Throwing off the covers, she swung her legs over the bed and hoisted herself up swiftly only to immediately regret her hastiness, as she was overcome with an instant feeling of dizziness.

As she was about to lie back down, one of the walls of her room began to lift, revealing a woman with a very kindly face and soft blue eyes.  
"Well, it seems as if you are awake, little Gjerdesmett."

The woman approached her and pulled a few vials from a pouch on her hip.

"Who are you?" She whispered, rubbing her aching eyes in a feeble attempt to stop the pounding inside of her skull.

"I am Eir." The woman responded with a smile. "Does your head hurt, my child?"

She nodded, unable to think much about anything anymore, and the woman quietly set to work opening her vials, mixing this liquid and that into a small metal cup.

"Come now, open your mouth and drink this."

She took the little cup from Eir and drank it quickly, surprised by the pleasant, flowery taste.

"There. Now take a few deep breaths and let it sink in." Eir instructed.

She did as she was told, and found herself feeling almost instantly better.

"You are a healer?" She asked, more surprised than curious. Healers were hard to come by, and virtually forbidden to use their abilities unless the master approved, which was only in very rare cases. She had always been taught that pain was the greatest teacher. Greatness could never be achieved if you were unable to learn a lesson from pain, and only the weak would not allow themselves to be taught by torment.

"Yes," Eir responded. "I know many things about medicine. For my people and now for yours."

"You are different from me?"

Eir nodded.

"Yes, we are not of this world. But you have allowed us to share it with you."

She furrowed her brow, staring curiously at the healer.

"How long have you been here?"

Eir raised an eyebrow, and the girl wondered if she had asked the wrong thing.

"Why, three of your years now. We came at the start of the war. Our home had been lost to us forever, but we helped your people win the war, and in turn were offered this land to colonize. But surely you must know this. The whole earth has been celebrating the anniversary of the defeat of Thanos for this past week."

"Tha-nos?"

Eir's eyes widened, and she placed a hand upon the girl's forehead, then gently helped her to lie back down.

"I think you need to sleep little Gjerdesmett. Tell me, what is your name?"

She sighed, sitting up again, her sense of urgency returning at last.

"I told Prince Loki, I have no name. I am simply my mother's daughter. Please, Eir, I must speak to the king. We are all in danger."

Softly, the doctor wrapped an arm around her shoulder, shushing her in the kindest way possible.

"It is late, my child. The king has likely gone to bed. Whatever you have to tell them can wait a few more hours, I am sure."

She shook her head, growing exasperated. She had not expected these people to be so slow in listening.

"Please, where is the prince? I must speak with him. I know he will understand."

Eir shook her head, shushing her once more, "I know not where the prince is. Please, try to get some rest. We will sort everything out in the morning. You have my word."

"No! Please, it is urgent." The girl struggled uselessly in her grip, noticing too late that she had reached in her pouch for another tool, landing a small, stinging prick to her upper arm.

"Shh child. You have my word, and I mean it. Now rest."

A tear slipped down the girl's cheek as the woman rubbed her arm soothingly and the world faded into darkness.

The girl awoke with a start to the sound of birds chirping. Sitting up swiftly, she grasped at the soft blankets, realizing that light had begun to filter in through her little canvas lined room.

"I am in a tent." She whispered, feeling very strange to not have woken up for the first time in many years in her little cot next to the stone wall.

"Yes, in my tent, and my bed specifically." The sound of the prince's amused voice floated in from the little canvas lined door as he pulled it aside, approaching her with a bowl of something hot and steaming. She inhaled deeply, her traitorous stomach growling loudly. Whatever it was, it smelled heavenly.  
Loki set the bowl and some utensils down on a little table next to her.

"You should eat something. From what I am told, hypothermia can be rather devastating to your kind. Thankfully Eir was here to patch you up nicely."

Without saying a word, she took the bowl and a fork and speared a bit of crackly brown meat, nearly sighing in satisfaction as soon at it hit her tongue. The smell was nothing compared to the salty taste and crisp texture.

Loki eyed her curiously, sitting down at the edge of the bed a little too casually and cocked his head.

"Have you never had bacon before? Every terran I've ever met has seemed to be obsessed with the stuff."

She shook her head, taking another bite, nearly inhaling her food.

"What is bacon?"

He barked out a laugh and shook his head.

"You are an odd sort. Perhaps it would be better for me not to tell you until you've finished."

She shrugged. Food was food, no matter what kind, and she was just glad to have it when she could.

He pleasantly sat there chatting with her while she finished her meal, filling the silence with all sorts of interesting things- the tent they were in was actually more than one room, all lit and heated by some complex alien power source, they were here for a few more days to celebrate the winter festival which happened to coincide with the anniversary of the end of the great war, and that their little town down at the bottom of the mountain was flourishing now, second in beauty and power only to Wakanda, and that was because, of course, they had been built up for much longer than the Aesir city had.

She waited till he had finished carrying on, and placed the bowl down gently.

"So, you are here to interrogate me, Prince Loki?"

The smile on his face faltered before turning into a sad scowl.

"I only thought it would be kind to bring you breakfast. See how you were doing after being so ill. After all, I had no idea how long you'd been lost up in the Galdhøpiggen. You were obviously delirious, poor thing. But I see now that you rebuff my kindness in sharing my bed, my doctor, and my food with you. I was beginning to think that humans weren't as dreadful as they seemed, but I suppose I was wrong."

She eyed him curiously as he delivered his little speech.

He stopped, secretly confused that it was not having the effect that it usually did. Humans were usually so easy to manipulate.

"Well? What have you to say for yourself, girl?"

She sat up, pulling the covers off and stood. Approaching him with a glint in her eye, she gently took hold of his chin, staring deep into his eyes.

"Just what do you think you are-"

He gasped, losing his voice along with most of his composure as he felt the sensation of falling.

He was in the blackness again, lost to the universe once more, praying in vain for someone to find him. He reached out, grasping and clawing, fighting back the bile that rose into his throat while despair, cold and heat and pain and loss all wrapped around him so tightly that he nearly cried out, begging for someone, anyone just to make it stop.

"Shh." He heard a voice soothe him.

His mother.

After all these years.

"I told you, my son, your future is for you to decide alone."

He was young again.

A scrawny child with a chip on his shoulder and a sword that was much too big for him.

He was weak.

"And if I wish to leave this place? I'll stay with your relatives on Vanaheim. Father has no use for me here anyway."

He felt his child voice crack with emotion, and he nearly laughed.

Ah yes. One of the many times Thor had bested him in the practice ring. Then shortly afterwards the embarrassing lecture from Odin on his lack of battle skills.

Frigga smiled at him in her special way. She always understood everything. She never had to ask.

"You know your father would never allow that."

He scoffed, kicking at the air.

"But," She took a knee in front of him. "I know that your father and your brother cast quite the shadow over you."

She took his chin in her hand, wiping away at his tears.

"So I think, my boy, it's time for you to have some sun of your own."

With that, a cracking sensation snapped him away, and he was jerked upright and through time once, through the void that brought him to all of the decisions that he alone made thereafter. Back to the present with a whoosh, where an odd little human woman still held his face in place and stared through his soul with eerie turquoise eyes.

He let out a gasping breath and grabbed at the bed linens with sweaty palms, the memories fading so fast that he wondered if anything had really happened at all.

Once she took note that he was alright, she laughed beautifully, and he realized it was the first time he had ever heard her make such a noise.

"I say...I say that you are a good man Loki, son of Frigga, and I have decided to trust you."

She let go of him then, and turned, attempting to brush the wrinkles off of her dress, while he sat there like a slack-jawed fool.

"Now. It is urgent that we speak to your brother. I promise I will tell you both everything I know."

She pulled open the curtain and turned back to him.

"I must ask you something first."

He stared up at her finding himself uncharacteristically mute, and stood as well, trying in vain to regain control of the situation.

"Last night, the healer, Eir, she called me something- Gjerdesmett. What is that?"

"A little bird that lives in these mountains." He answered with a sigh, finally finding his voice. "The locals call it a Wren."

She smiled, reaching out to take his hand so that he could lead her to the king.

"Wren." She repeated, testing the word as the sound rolled off her tongue. She nodded once and turned back to him resolutely.

"Then that is what I wish to be called. Wren."

Loki nodded, again choosing to stay quiet. For now, he would oblige her. There was much more going on here than he could even dream to interpret.

"Well then, little Wren, I suppose it's time I take you to the king."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The first thing Wren noticed about the king's private tent was not so much the king at all, but the soft static electricity that played along the white linens of the walls.

She followed the trail of crackles that were dancing cheerily through the air as they went to and fro, finally landing on and alighting from their owner.

The king was apparently cold, as he stood next to a heat source, which appeared to be some sort of flameless fire that emanated from a tall, cylindrical device.

He turned to them as they entered, large hands clasped behind his back, and smiled.

He wore a simple, rugged clothing, looking very much like an ordinary, albeit large human. His hair was shorn very close to his head, and for a moment, Wren almost thought he was not the same man who she had been told about.

But he smiled, just like in the picture, and she knew. There was a kindness in his gaze, but she knew he would also be very wary of her. That much she understood.

Wren tightened her grip on Loki's hand and drew closer to him, bowing her head in respect.

"Þórr, konungr mitt. Góðan dag. Hvat segir þú?"

Thor's eyes widened upon hearing the old tongue.

Loki chuckled.

"Oh yes brother. She is full of surprises."

"Hm. It seems that way."

Wren lifted her head as he considered her, and she wondered for a moment if she had made a mistake in coming here. After all, she owed these people nothing.

"I am fine, thank you." Thor finally replied with a laugh. "I should ask you where you learned to speak the language of my people, but something tells me to save that question for another time."

He nodded to her hold on Loki.

"It seems as if my brother has earned your trust quite easily. I must point out, there are very few here on Earth, including myself, who feel as you do."

She sighed, letting go of Loki. There was no reason to be afraid, and she knew that. There was no need to make a fool out of herself.

Thor pulled out a small chair from a little table in the corner of the room and gestured for her to sit.

She did so, wincing as she realized that the throbbing in her had head returned.

"I know that he is a good man, and I came here because I knew he would listen."

Thor nodded and sat as well, looking to his brother who seemed to be perfectly content with leaning to one corner of the room, his arms crossed, surveying the scene.

"That he is. But tell me, uh-" Thor looked to Loki questioningly.

"Wren." Loki supplied with a hint of a smile.

"Yes, Lady Wren, my brother tells me that you claim to have come here from a facility that has been abandoned for centuries."

She sighed and began to rub her temples.

"I cannot explain what has happened to my home. Only that just yesterday morning, the Master was preparing his troops to assimilate this planet. Now everyone has disappeared. I can assure you, however, that wherever he has gone, he will not be gone long."

Thor furrowed his brow.

"And who is this "master" of yours? Tell me his name."

Wren shook her head.

"I know him by no other name. Addressing him as anything else is sure to merit torture or even death."

Thor sighed.

"Can you at least tell us what he looks like? Where he comes from?"

"I-" She struggled to reply, her memories beginning to slur together in a suffocating fog. "None of us have ever truly gazed upon him. Not even his hand maidens. I only know that he wears a cowl of black. It covers his body and face from all."

Thor shot an exasperated glance to his brother. This was going nowhere.

"Wren," Loki spoke, causing her to lift her watery eyes to the direction of his voice. "You told me yesterday that I was the prince you saw on the walls. Tell us what you meant by that."

She looked around the small room, suddenly fatigued by the stale air coming from the small corner heater.

"Yes. I saw you Prince Loki, blood child of Laufey, adoptive son of Frigga, and you Thor, son of Odin on the tapestries in the master's library a mere few weeks ago. This was right before I discovered his plan to conquer this world."

Thor exchanged a dubious glance with his brother.

"There are not many humans who know the true origins of my brother."

Wren took a deep breath and lifted a finger, causing a noticeable shift in air circulation throughout the small tent.

"I learned of you both months ago. I had finally earned the master's trust enough to become a part of his very small inner circle. Very few of the others in my group knew much apart from what we were raised to do, which was fight, or be beaten."

She cast a glance to Thor.

"He wants you both dead, but especially you, King Thor."

Thor looked at her doubtfully. "Why me? I know of no one living in this realm or another that has any personal grudge against our family."

Wren looked hopefully to Loki. This was the part that she had hoped at least one of them could believe, and knew from his history that it would most likely be him.

"I do not know the specifics of the grudge that he holds against you or your kin, but what I do know is that if he is not stopped, Asgard...will rise once more, and the Master wishes to see you and all of the other citizens of this world perish after he revives your planet."

Thor scoffed, having had enough of their ridiculous conversation.

"There is no more physical planet that represents Asgard. Any remnant that remained was destroyed by Surtur long ago."

Wren swallowed hard, unable to fully quell the nausea brought about by the ceaseless aching of her forehead.

"What you think is not true. He will resurrect your planet, and then come for this one with a powerful army of beings. As soon as I learned of it, I planned to come and find you both, to warn you. I had no idea you resided closeby. I have lived in that compound my entire life. So it was a fortunate coincidence that I saw you here celebrating from the top of the arboretum yesterday."

Thor let out an incredulous laugh.

"So, Lady Wren, you mean to tell me that you come to us from an oppressive ruler who wishes me and my family dead, means to bring back my long dead planet, and has enslaved you and an army of others for your entire life, and that this all occurred merely a few miles away from this camp?"

Wren looked pleadingly to Loki, but his face was cold, impassive.

"Yes." She whispered, looking down at her hands that were clasped on the small table in front of her.

This was going just about as poorly as she had imagined.

Thor stood, wanting more than anything to cease the conversation.

"Supposing your story is true, which I highly doubt, why would you leave everything you had ever known and disavow loyalty to your master for us? Surely you must realize how ridiculous this all seems."

"Please, your highness. I understand the absurdity of my claims, and I do not make them lightly. I risked everything to come here." Wren gripped the table and touched her head, beginning to grow dizzy.

At that, Loki finally took action, crossing the room and kneeling before her.

"Would you like to know what I think, little Wren?"

She sighed, touching her head. Really not going well.

"I think you are simply one of the Displaced. You lost your family, your home during the war, left to wander alone. You're nothing but a pretty little vagabond who got lost up in the mountains one day and lost your memory due to the prolonged effects of the cold. You came down here, and I, like the magnanimous individual that I am, rescued you from the snow." He tilted his head, a savage glint in his eyes.

"Isn't that right, darling?"

She grit her teeth, seething.

"You saw what happened to my mother. You know what I can do."

He laughed mockingly.

"You refer to your 'powers'? Nothing but parlor tricks compared to what I have seen in my lifetime. And as for your mother, all I saw were ancient skulls on a wall, probably from a burial ritual. You must realize dear, you've done nothing to convince us. As far as I'm concerned, you've only taken up space in my tent and eaten my food."

She shook her head vehemently, desperately wishing she could just have more of the medicine that Eir had given her last night.

"Please…" She sighed.

"Come now." Loki cut her off, reaching out to tip her chin up so he could look into her eyes. His voice was soft and deceptively soothing. "I won't lie, I've had fun with our little game. You've been a most welcome diversion. But it's time for you to come clean. Tell us the truth, where are you really from?"

Her face dropped as she looked back and forth between their expectant faces, Thor's mouth forming a grim line, and Loki's hypnotic green eyes urging her on.

This was it. All hope was lost.

"Loki," She whispered. "Please, I-" The pain was becoming unbearable, and she reached out, grabbing at his shoulder.

He must have realized that she was about to pass out, because he swiftly caught her swaying form, easily lifting her up and carrying her to the small couch at the far end of the sitting room.

Or at least that was the last thing she remembered.

Sighing, Thor stepped over to where his brother stood. At that point, much to Thor's surprise, he was carefully placing a blanket over the woman's body as if she was a fragile doll. He would have laughed at his atypical behavior had the situation been any different.

"Ahem. I'll have Sven call for Eir. She may still be suffering the effects of her stint in the cold."

Loki nodded, turning to look at his brother.

"She's telling the truth."

Thor sighed, rubbing his forehead. Would they ever have any peace?

"You're certain?"

"Yes." Loki replied. "At least as she knows it. I do not think we should take her claims lightly."

"If you are certain, then no, we should not." Thor agreed. "Do you really believe there to be a remnant of Asgard? I saw it destroyed, Loki, completely and thoroughly."

"As did I," Loki confirmed. "But perhaps we were not as careful as we had originally thought."

Thor grunted, wishing now more than ever that his father were still with them.

"There's more." Loki looked back down to her innocent sleeping form. "She is quite powerful. More than I think she even knows. A telepath the likes of which I have only ever seen in one other human on this planet."

Thor raised his eyebrow, knowing the exact person his brother was referring to.

"If she is but one example of this army her master was seeking to create," Loki continued, "I do not wish to be unprepared for the others."

Thor shook his head, turning from Loki to think.

He turned back after a moment, catching his brother's expectant eye.

"Where are they, at the moment?"

"Germany. Berlin, I believe." Loki responded.

Thor nodded.

"I'll call them in when we get back to New Asgard. I am sure they will want to meet our guest. Until then, it seems for some reason, she has taken a liking to you, brother. Perhaps once she feels well, you can attempt to gain some more information from her."

Loki scowled.

"Come on, brother. It'll be fun!" Thor clasped a firm hand to his brother's shoulder before turning to leave. "Besides, you said yourself she was pretty."

"It was a figure of speech, Thor!"

Thor laughed, leaving his brother to scoff at him alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Wren woke with a start, hands flailing, and promptly emptied the minimal contents of her stomach into the nearest receptacle, which unfortunately happened to be her blanket covered lap.

Struggling to catch her breath, tears and sweat streaming down her face, she looked around for the first time, realizing that she was no longer in the canvas covered tent, but in a real dwelling with hard walls. Her belly gurgled, and she let out a strangled cry. It was dark again. There was a small window to her right that showed nothing outside but stars. How long had she been asleep? There was no town around her mountain dwelling for kilometers. Or at least there was none that she had ever seen.

With a shaking hand, she swiped at her nose, pulling at the dripping sick with a shudder and attempted to discreetly wipe it onto a clean portion of the linens.

"Well aren't you a mess?" A voice intoned from the corner.

She jumped, attempting to fold the covers over her vomit. Adjusting her eyes through the dim light, she spotted the emerald prince in a soft chair, a book in his lap as if he had been there for who knew how long.

He laughed, neither noticeably annoyed nor especially amused, and rose, straightening his tunic and placing the book pages side down in his chair.

"I have seen worse, Gjerdesmett."

She looked away horrified as he carefully rolled the blanket up into a ball and deposited it in the corner to be collected, she assumed. She could not imagine how revolting it must be for a man of his status to clean up the filth of some commoner, nor could she ascertain as to the reason why he would even deign to do so in the first place.

"My prince, you should not-" She whispered, unable to finish her sentence as she watched him pour a glass of water from a little pitcher on the nightstand and shove it in her direction.

"I will do what I please. Surely you must have intuited that from your little romp into my brain."

She took the water with a nod, wiping off a few more tears from her burning face. The moment the cool liquid hit her lips, she began to gulp at it, suddenly feeling like a parched fish in the desert.

Loki swore in some guttural and ancient sounding language, and pulled at the glass from her startled hands.

"Slowly, woman. I will not clean up your sick again."

Wren nodded once more and sipped while he turned to a little birch cupboard that she had not previously seen in her poor scan of the room.

"Where are we, and how long have we been here?" She whispered, dreading his response. Every second they were here doing nothing was bearing down on her like the sharp end of a scythe.

He turned, pulling out a quilt with one hand and throwing a small bundle into her lap with the other.

"Can you walk?" He responded, ignoring her question for the time being.

She looked down at the neat little pile of warm clothes that had been gifted to her and realized that she had not truly wanted a hot bath in her entire life as desperately as she did right now.

"I believe so."

She watched him as he calmly aired out the quilt, taking obvious great pains to demonstrate himself the caring host.

"In that case, there is a washroom down that hall and to the left. I will see to it that one of the women attends to you."

"Please," Oh how she hated the word. It spoke of only begging and pity and weakness.

He halted her with a slight dismissal of his hand.

"We will speak once you remove your filthy stinking carcass from these chambers and come back clean and not a moment sooner. Do not test my hospitality, little bird, or you may find yourself left outside in the snow once more."

She gulped and reached for the bundle of clothing. Although his careless words had no bite, she did not wish to trifle with him further.

Slowly she let her legs swing over the edge of the bed. Bracing herself with a shaky hand, she hoisted herself upwards and let her bare feet slide carefully towards the ground.

The moment her body was fully upright, braced upon trembling foal legs, gravity seemed to reassert itself with a vengeance upon her, and she felt that if she did not find the restroom soon, she would most certainly embarrass herself once more in front of her unlikely caretaker.

She swiftly grabbed at the pile of clothes and wobbled to the door without a word, ignoring the concerned way in which he was eyeing her. Carefully guarding any miniscule shred of dignity she had left, she managed to quickly make it to the washroom before retching once more. Her only consolation was that it was in private this time.

Afterwards, she sat down on the cool tile floor leaning her head against the wall, unable to do anything productive other than stare longingly at the empty tub before her.

Reaching two fingers to her neck, she felt around for her carotid artery. Her heart was racing, as usual.

The sickness was getting worse.

A soft knock at the bathroom door startled her to the present, and Wren saw a little white haired head peek through. The woman gasped, her perfect and beautiful ebony face marred only by the horrified expression it displayed at the condition of her charge.

"My child, how long have you been lying on the floor?"

Wren cleared her throat, attempting to sit up.

"Only a few minutes, my lady."

The kindly woman rushed over to her, helping her up to sit on the toilet.

"The name's Hilde, or Hilda in the new tongue, my daughter."

"Wren." She responded, closing her eyes in an attempt to shut out the woman's words of endearment.

"Well then, Lady Wren, let's run you a bath, shall we?"

Wren nodded, watching the older woman as she turned the handle for the tap, water miraculously spewing forth into the confines of the little clawfoot tub. A mere few months ago, before the master had so foolishly entrusted her with the gift of his knowledge and facilities, she would have been in awe of even this technology, only knowing the old well from which they drew the water every morning. Her mother heating it to just the right temperature in the big kettle on the stove, pouring it into the large wooden receptacle that they would then take turns using. Always her first. Her mother would never let her take the dirty water second.

Shutting out the majority of her thoughts, Wren nodded to Hilda, intrigued at the little vials of soap she was pouring into the steaming water.

"Are you one of Prince Loki's servants?"

Hilda snickered and turned to her, and Wren wondered instantly if she had said something offensive.

"Don't worry, dear. I'm rarely upset. And to answer your question, there are no servants in New Asgard. There are so few of us left now, we have abolished the old ways and have learned to all contribute to our rebuilding in unity. All Aesir work, cook, and clean for ourselves."

Wren's eyes widened in shock.

"Even the king?"

Hilda screwed the cap onto the last of the solutions and set it down.

"Even the king. Although between you and I, there have been rumors circulating that some of the older women have been seen time to time sneaking into his pantry, supplementing him with pies and the like."

Wren smiled feebly as the old woman helped her to stand and shuck the last vestiges of her filthy dress.

She held onto her arm as she stepped over the rim of the tub, relieved to have the help and completely unbothered to preserve her modesty at this point.

Sinking down slowly into the sweet floral water, Wren sighed with relief for the first time in a long time.

"What is it that you do in New Asgard, besides assist the invalid in the bath that is?"

Hilda cackled softly as she balled up the stained white dress that Wren had worn for so long and threw it into a waste receptacle where it belonged.

"I am the head lieutenant of our national security forces, chief of all weaponry and personal smithy to the king himself. I work directly under our nation's general, Prince Loki."

Wren nodded. It made sense for Loki to send such a person. There was no reason for them to trust her, and she would need to be kept under careful watch.

Not that she was well enough at this point to inflict any damage on anyone.

Hilda came around to the back side of the tub and pulled the young woman's hair back, soaking her scalp with the warm water.

"I thank you then, Lieutenant, for your kindness." Wren sighed, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep in the water while she let her scalp be massaged into oblivion.

"It's just Hilda to you, child."

"Then thank you, Hilda." Wren responded.

The woman sat her up, gently rinsing the soap off of her near crimson hair.

"Unusual color for a human." Hilda commented.

Wren smiled. "My mother's was the same. They told us we looked as if the gods themselves had taken the eternal flame to form our locks, and put a little bit more in our hearts to form our spirits."

"Ah. Fiery inside and out then I see. I understand now why the general favors you so." Hilda chuckled, finishing her work and handing Wren a little soft sponge so that she could finish bathing.

Wren felt her cheeks turn red. "I am fortunate and grateful that he is willing to listen. I fear that this planet is in great danger."

"Yes, so he tells me." Hilda began to lay out her clothes on a little chair that sat next to the small sink. "He believes your words to be true, you know."

Wren stared at the lieutenant trying to gauge her response. "And do you believe me?"

Hilda smiled comfortingly. "I trust the general implicitly. If he believes you, then so do I."

Wren nodded. "The king told me that not many people trusted his brother."

Finished with the clothes, Hilda reached around for a towel, holding it up while Wren stood.

"Loki risked his own life twice to save us. Once on Asgard, and another time in the fight against the Mad Titan three years ago. I do not dwell on past deeds like most of the people. Only the future."

"Thank you," Wren said as she stepped out of the tub, finally clean for the first time in what felt like forever.

"I know nothing of the wrongdoings of the prince's past, as you speak of it." Wren admitted.

Hilda reached forward and tucked a small piece of hair behind the young woman's ear.

"As I said, daughter, it matters not. But perhaps someday he will tell you about it."

Wren tilted her head in a show of acquiescence.

"Now. I'll leave you to getting dressed. Fear not, however. I'll be right outside the door to help you back."

As soon as she left, Wren wrapped the towel around her hair and took to putting on the clothes she was given.

The trousers were a soft tan leather that fit her lithe frame perfectly. She laced them up at the sides and pulled on a warm cream cotton tunic with a vest that exactly matched the pants. There were no shoes, which would not be a problem for her at the moment, as she barely had the strength to make it down the hall back to bed. She finished toweling off her hair and took a glance in the mirror. She was thinner than ever, and it was beginning to show in her face.

At least it didn't matter much to have to hide it anymore.

Wren sighed, padding over to open the bathroom door. She accepted Hilda's outstretched hand and they took the short walk back to her quarters in companionable silence.

Her room was quiet, and the sun had began to peek up over the tops of the mountain she could now see in the distance.

Her mountain.

She crawled into the freshly made bed and lay back, wishing that the woman would stay with her, although she didn't dare ask.

"There now. I do believe the general is off making his breakfast at this hour. Perhaps if he's not in his usual surly mood, he may even share some with you." Hilda winked.  
"Are you feeling any better, child?"

Wren smiled reassuringly, the same one she always had given her mother. "Yes, much, thank you. I'll be alright. I've been ill before."

"Of course." Hilda said, turning to leave. She had her hand on the door when a timid call came from the corner of the bedroom.

"Will I see you again?"

She turned back, not betraying much emotion in her soft hazel eyes.

"I'll be back again soon, I promise."

Wren nodded, satisfied, and closed her eyes, hearing her go before she drifted into a light slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

No light shone through the room as he tiptoed through the darkness. His nimble feet quietly seeking a place to land, as they made their slow tour, while he clung closely to the walls.

Almost too closely, for his knee banged against a small jar, sending it toppling dangerously towards the ground.

Thankfully for him, he had been here before.

Reaching out quickly and with deftness of hand, the intruder caught the glass before the shrill sound of its breaking would be the alarm that would cause his discovery.

He gently placed it back upon the all but invisible shelf and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was too close a call for his comfort.

He took a moment, pausing, and attempted to let his eyes adjust. He needed to move quickly to avoid detection, but if there was anything he had learned in his life up to this point, it was that speed and impatience did not automatically equal victory.

He waited for what felt like an eternity but in reality was mere minutes, hearing nothing but the soft sound of his heart thumping rhythmically in his chest. He wished that only for a moment he could will it to be quiet, as it was the one thing resounding through the calm blackness.

Swallowing, he began to move again, more slowly this time to be sure. His eyes had adapted enough, and he began to make out shapes in the darkness. There were shelves lining the wall to his right, as he had expected there to be, curving around the room and onto the wall in front of him. He went to those first, extending his hand much more carefully this time.

He felt a long row of little wicker baskets, though it took no more than a quick rifle through each one to tell him that his prize was not to be found there.

Gently, he slid his hand along the tops of the shelves as he moved forward in a painstakingly slow fashion, taking great care not to trip over any possible item on the floor.

He furrowed his brow. It was not there either.

He suddenly grew fearful and suspicious and stopped, the hairs on the back of his neck raising ever so slightly. Perhaps they knew. Now they were on to his little game and it would be a matter of seconds before he were found out. Even worse, what if they were here, in the room with him right now, just waiting for the right moment to strike?

He shuddered and willed himself to calm down.

If he were caught…

He shook his head and nearly laughed aloud at his own foolishness. He was behaving as if he were a ridiculous boy, and not a man. The more likely conclusion was that the thing in question had been moved, and all he need do was find it, and leave immediately.

If he didn't, she would have his head.

He made his way to the final row of shelves that lay directly in front of him. A noise sounded from upstairs and he froze, straining his ears to hear what the commotion was.

Spoons clanking, pots being filled.

It was indeed time for morning meal.

He moved with more urgency now, pawing at each shelf with haste until he reached the very top, his hand hitting something solid.

Finally.

He pulled at the object, attempting to dislodge it from its location, however, something was wrong. The thing wouldn't budge. He groaned in frustration and let go, centering himself and grounding his feet. Rubbing his hands together, he latched on again and pulled hard with all of his might.

At that moment, two very important things happened. The first was that the object in question vanished into vapors, causing a very alarmed Thor Odinson to fall back, arms waving, landing on his rump in a very disgraceful and unkingly fashion onto the cold hard ground. The second thing was the triggering of the lights, revealing the Cheshire grin of his adoptive brother as he leaned against the doorway of his pantry, holding a great wheel of brie.

"Looking for this, brother?" Crooned the cat as he stalked the rest of the way in.

Thor stood, eyes narrowing, unwilling to admit defeat, and that he had been undoubtedly and wholly tricked and trapped.

"Actually Loki, I am here to check on our visitor. Of course Hildey told me that she awoke this morning," Thor circled his brother, attempting to gain the upper hand. "And that she was very safe and comfortable in your motherly care." He finished with a grin while eyeing the cheese.

Loki kept his features schooled, nonchalantly tossing the brie into the air and back to his hand.

"And so, brother, you teleported into my cellar? I did not know that you had learned such an ability, but I do congratulate you on the effort." Loki smiled.

Thor scowled, losing his patience. He grabbed at the cheese, only to see his hand pass through the apparition of it, and his brother as well.

The Loki double laughed.

"I am upstairs in the kitchen if you wish to speak to me like a normal being, instead of creeping around in my pantry like a cockroach." And with that he vanished.

By the time Thor had stomped up the stairs and into the quaint little kitchen, Loki was already ladling something steamy and delicious and very familiar smelling into two bowls.

Thor peered into the pot, ignoring his brother's sneer at him as he placed three freshly baked hot buttered rolls on a plate next to one bowl, and one for the other.

"You made mother's blomkålsuppe?" Thor nearly giggled if it weren't for the severe line of Loki's mouth and the harsh squint of his eye.

His brother said nothing to this, preferring to answer that question with a particular question of his own.

"Since I assume you were not here to desperately poke around in my cellar looking for my most prized cheese to satisfy a craving of your own, I should ask, just who exactly was it for? Or rather." Loki paused, pretending to think for dramatic effect. "Whose craving were you attempting to satisfy by risking life and limb to sneak into my home at this hour?"

Thor sobered at this, deferring his eyesight instead to the still bubbling pot on the stove and away from Loki's now lupine grin.

"Ah. I see. Well it seems as if congratulations are in order."

Thor's eyes shot to his brother's as the man flung a hot buttered roll at him which he caught easily without a thought.

"How could you have known?" Thor demanded, his worried frown finally turning into a laugh.

Loki scoffed, placing the bowl of soup on a tray along with the roll.

"Norns, Thor, you couldn't have made it any more obvious, as usual."

Thor chuckled at that, pointing to his once lofty brother now playing the nurse maid.

"Nor could you, I'm afraid."

Loki turned on him swiftly, all amount of teasing that had colored his voice long gone.

"I do the job you gave me, and unless you see fit to relieve me of it, then I shall continue. Believe me, I would gladly hand it over to another if you so commanded."

Thor rolled his eyes. "Oh? And why is that?" He took a bite of his roll, remembering he was still standing there holding it as he spoke.

"It's taken me too long to even wake her to begin her interrogation, and according to Eir, she is more ill than we had originally thought."

Thor frowned. "What has Eir found?"

"I do not know." Loki answered. "Only that she said she would come by later to discuss it with her. I do not think the prognosis to be very good."

Thor swallowed his bread, and it suddenly felt very dry, sticking to his throat as it went down.

"Could you, perhaps, look into her mind for answers?"

Loki set a spoon down on the tray and picked it up, wishing his brother would take the infernal cheese and just leave.

"I'd rather not. I do think today that I may make headway with the little wraith, however I need some time."

Thor nodded, suddenly looking very worried.

"Loki, there are so few of us left now. We must eliminate this threat if it does indeed exist."

"I know. Believe me, I am doing all that I can." He responded, turning to leave before stopping to give Thor a final glance.

"Cheese is in the pantry where my illusion was, you oaf. Tell Sif that next time the child in her belly calls for something other than cheddar she should have her husband harass someone else. Preferably old Ingrid down the way."

Thor smiled, and Loki was immediately reminded of a Golden Retriever.

He turned, exiting the room to the sound of a "Thank you brother! I am in your debt."

"I will remember that." He called, shaking his head as he propelled down the hallway, anxious to get his questioning over with.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Wren's earliest memory was surprisingly not of her mother, but rather her father. Naturally, it was all rather vague and shadowed, like an echo of a past that had never really quite happened. However, the one thing that stood out to her was his face. He had a shining, soft smile and resolute jaw and it seemed that the years of subjugation at the hands of a merciless tyrant had somehow not taken the twinkle from his eye. Or if it had, perhaps it returned after she had come along. Those features were the only thing her mother told her she had received from him. In fact, as she was told, they looked nothing alike. Unlike her own porcelain skin, her father favored the warmer tones of the area she supposed he was plucked from. The color of his chocolate brown eyes and hair were nearly indistinguishable from one another.

Upon visiting this particular memory, she always first felt the intones of his calming and loving mother tongue upon her.

"Cálmate nena. Tu mama regresará pronto. Estoy contigo."

That was how she found herself in this particular dreamscape, the blurry outline of her father bent over the crude makeshift baby bed in their quarters.

This was all she had of him.

"No te preocupes, amor. Escaparemos al rato. Cuando sale la luna." He pointed to the windowless wall of their domicile as if she could understand.

"Viviremos en paz para siempre lejos de aqui, bebé." She learned what the words had meant later after absorbing the language from a group of young, terrified transplants from an Earth land called Peru.

They took him that night.

That was, of course the same night they discovered her. She was nearly nine months old. Of course the punishment for procreating, let alone concealing a child was immediate death. There was little to no guarantee that the offspring would manifest the magnitude of power that the parents held. There was a possibility that they would be born useless. At least or so they thought at this point. She was the first known child to be successfully born of two parents in the compound.

When she was old enough to understand, her mother told her the story of what had happened when they were both discovered in that little room, waiting for the moon to rise.

Mother had gone to the practice ring. Up until that point they had both managed to somehow evade being scheduled at the same time, except for a few times, when they had to regretfully leave her alone, swathed in blankets in a makeshift box with holes in the top so that she could still breathe but no one would hopefully hear her fuss.

It was getting more and more difficult to conceal her, however, as she had learned to crawl and was in the beginning stages of toddling around the small apartment. So they did the best they could, paying the ringmaster in bits of bread and meat and small metal trinkets to move them around so that they would never be together. No one suspected much, as this was common practice for exhausted soldiers dealing with the daily and constant fear of defeat and death.

The exception was that this day, for whatever reason, the ringmaster had forgotten to rearrange her father, unbeknownst to him. Her mother speculated that he was growing suspicious, and like all of them, wanted to curry favor with the Master. In the end, she could not blame him for it. This was the society they lived in.

They came shortly after he had told her that they were to escape that night. She remembered nothing of this, which was more than likely a protection laid out for her by her fragile psyche than a fallacy of memory. They were both escorted directly to the Master, and merely moments later her mother was pulled from the ring and drug before him. It was not hard for the Master to ascertain as to who the mother of the child was based on the shock of flaming hair that protruded from her still delicate baby skull.

The Master was surprisingly calm and collected for what had been found. Her mother told her that it was possible he could sense her power right away.

Now he was faced with an interesting dilemma. A child of great strength had been born right under his nose. -Many years later she would also learn of the prophecy that had brought them all to this point. The Master, in all of his infinite wisdom knew that this was not an opportunity to be scorned. The ultimate issue, however, was that someone must stand up and make an example of themselves so as not to let the others think they would also be able to commit a sin of this magnitude. Thus, instead of immediate death for the three of them, he proposed a much more entertaining idea. Her mother and father were to fight. To the death. The remaining parent would take the child and raise it under his more or less direct supervision. If they refused, all three were to die on the spot.

Her mother never told her the details of the battle. Only that it was an unspoken look between them as to who would live and who would die. Her father's body was hung to decay on the wall in the main cavern along with all other transgressors as an example.

Wren's mother was never the same after that, her powers still of good use, but her mind on many a bad day lost to a place that she dare not even touch.

And so there she was raised by her mother in the little dwelling inside of the mountain. There she was protected for nine short years and spared from the ring until her powers had built up safely inside of her. The eventually day came, however, when she was forced to fight, to use her telepathy and power of air and wind to confuse, hurt, maim, kill.

Which was why she came back to this dream regularly. The best memory. When she was still safe and secret, locked away in the adoring eyes of her papa.

The part of her mind that was still somewhat aware of what was going on in the outside world alerted her to the soft padding footsteps that were accustomed to years of sneaking and treachery, and she knew her raven locked caretaker was on his way back.

Taking one last glance at the man peering into the little cot, she whispered the words her infantile mind had lacked the ability to say in that moment and regretfully pulled herself away, coming fully back to the present.

The slit of her eye opened just as her door handle jiggled, the prince very obviously announcing his presence before he entered. With him he carried a tray with two steaming bowls of food that was producing a smell so delicious that even her cautious stomach could not resist it.

She opened both eyes fully and regarded the man, once so regally treated, now reduced to a level of self care she imagined he never could have even fathomed in his youth. Still so, it seemed to suit him more than being served on a golden pedestal as she imagined he had been for so many hundreds of years before his life had led him to this point.

He set the tray down carefully on her bedside table.

"Well. You certainly smell better. I shall have to thank Hilda for her efforts. Can you sit up to eat?"

She nodded, and gingerly pulled herself up, fixing the pillows to suit her. He set the tray in her lap and took his bowl and bread, retreating to his chair opposite the bed, his eyes never losing their wary look.

She wondered briefly if he was always so suspicious of others or if there was some sort of lesson learnt that had made him that way. She did not even have to reference her brief leap into his mind to suspect that he had experienced many more a tragedy than most.

He began to eat quietly and she did the same, sipping carefully.

"What do you call this soup?" She sighed, setting the spoon down halfway through. Her body needed more, but her appetite had decided to refuse, so she figured a small conversation was better than the ultimate rejection that she feared would happen if she ate too quickly.

The prince put his spoon down and picked up his bread, his movements ever graceful even when doing such a menial task as consuming food.

"It's called blomkålsuppe. My mother would shoo the servants out of the kitchens and make it herself for Thor and I back on Asgard on the rare occasion we were ill or battle weary. Of course, the ingredients on this planet are a paltry substitute for the real thing, but I find that the Midgardian cauliflower works well enough."

He watched for her reaction to his hard work and kindness, but she simply nodded and began to pick at her bread.

"It is delicious. I would thank the queen for imparting her knowledge to you."

Loki's eyes hardened.

"You may yet have that chance if you continue not to eat, little bird."

Whether she understood his implication or not, he did not know, for she looked back down at the bowl and attempted to take a few more feeble bites.

He cleared his throat, wishing to begin extracting information from her, but knowing full well that he needed to take his time with this one.

"Eir advises me that she has run some tests on you while you were unconscious. She wishes to speak with you this afternoon regarding them."

Wren managed a sardonic smile at that, setting her spoon down once and for all.

"There is nothing she could tell me about my illness other than the manner of how it occured and how I shall die from it."

So it wasn't a simple case of hypothermia as they had suspected, Loki thought.

"I am only glad I was able to hide it for long enough to escape a weak death and come here."

He waited for her to speak more of it, but she did not, and went about setting her tray to the side, leaning back against the pillows once more. He nodded, leaving her to her privacy for now, and returned to the more pressing matters at hand.

"Well, unfortunate as your situation may be, you know that I have come here to find out everything you know about this imminent threat to my people."

"Of course," She agreed. "I will tell you everything you desire." She hesitated, unable to ascertain where she should begin. "Where would you like me to start?"

He leaned forward, his jewel green eyes sparkling in the light of the sun that filtered through her window, looking at her in his beautiful serpentine way as if he could read the thoughts of her dream only moments prior.

"Start at the beginning."


	8. Chapter 8

Compared to the few souls she had come across and the many she had eventually lost over the thirty-five or so turns of the planet that she had been living on, Wren's life had been surprisingly uneventful. Not in the conventional sense, of course, as one would imagine- growing up a child of two loving parents, safe and well cared for and never knowing too much pain or tribulation. Living under the sharp eye on the master, there was always pain. In comparison to the lives around hers, however, she had actually been well sheltered and cared for, the Master really believing she was meant for something truly special. Having defected before he carried out his plans, however, she was never able to fully ascertain as to what that purpose was.

So she began from the start of her short lived life with Loki, chronicling her secret birth and the tragic details of her father's death. At three, she discovered her innate ability to manipulate the air, and at seven her special skill of telepathy. Two years later, after her mother had shielded her for long enough, she was finally taken by the Ringmaster to practice her abilities against other children of her age, some of whom had been recently kidnapped from their parents throughout the planet because they seemed to be of some use to the Master. She went to a special school for children where she was taught to read and write, and among other things, was cultivated into a highly skilled assassin. This was how she grew up, fighting and training to be a part of a large army that would eventually conquer all who opposed them. Until recently, the Master had not shown much interest in her. He began to call her to him merely a few months ago, showing her more about the outside world and the sons of Odin than she had ever known.

He had shown her his royal quarters and great library that held all sorts of books, most of them on topics she could have only dreamed to imagine- seidr, realms unknown, fictional accounts, historical biographies. That was where she saw the great tapestries of the royal family depicting the golden Thor, his parents, and the dark Loki. The Master told her that they were the ultimate transgressors, and that they would be destroyed, their people subjugated as they should be.

From that point, she was made to dine with the Master nightly, along with four or five other young powerful humans whom she imagined he was also grooming to be commanders in his great war. She was also given special clearance to the entire compound, leading to her discovery of the glass arboretum, and eventually the Aesir below the mountain.

She stopped, catching her breath for a moment as Loki watched her. He stood, producing a cup of steaming dark brown liquid seemingly from nowhere in his hand and gave it to her.

"That's a neat trick." She smiled tiredly.

He did not smile back.

"I do it when it suits me."

He let her sip for a moment before he began with his questions.

"So am I to understand that the leader of this facility would kidnap the people of this world, ones showing remarkable abilities, and train them to be in his army?"

She nodded, setting the coffee in her lap, feeling only slightly more invigorated than before.

"He would take them from their homes as infants, children, teens. There were some who were adults that would come willingly, lured by the promise of power and revenge. As I understood from them, not everyone on this planet possesses the gene required to manipulate their environment, and many of them are ostracized or even killed. Most have gone into hiding."

"Indeed." Loki replied. "Thor and I were for a time unaware of such humans, at least until the war. Many fought and died very bravely." He paused as if uncertain as to whether or not he should continue. "In fact, two of their leaders are on their way to New Asgard. They are also interested in investigating the situation at hand."

Wren laughed softly.

"You mean they are interested in debriefing me?"

"Naturally." He answered simply. He could tell she was beginning to tire once more.

She sobered then as if reading his mind for the next question at hand.

"I cannot tell you where he went, nor the reason for his magic on the compound. I cannot even say when he will return. But I know for certain that he will. And I know that if you listen to me, you and your brother will save us all. I have seen it."

Loki leaned forward, unfazed by her words.

"You have said those words before. Are you also gifted with predictions?" He thought of his mother briefly.

Wren closed her eyes for a moment, and Loki wondered if her energy had finally depleted to the point of sleep.

"No." She finally answered, eyes only half closed now. "I saw the prophecies on the tapestries from Asgard. I saw more than I think the Master had intended."

At that she must have lost consciousness for a moment, because her eyes shut and her breathing deepened, leaving him with a vague story and little to no sense of closure.

Rising from his perch on the chair, he reached a tentative hand to her forehead and took stock of her life force. He could feel it slipping slowly but surely as she had previously confirmed.

He would have to call upon Eir to attempt to sustain her for a little while longer. A pity, he thought, for she was quite...unique. But such was the way of human life. It would do him little good to get attached to this one anymore so than it would a pet or a horse.

He had just picked the now empty cup off of her lap, little good that it did her, when a soft knock sounded on the door.

"Yes. Come."

Eir bustled in, carrying her usual pouch and this time a slew of instruments of much higher technology in her medical bag.

Loki cleared his throat, suddenly feeling out of place as the healer went about her scans and prodding. "She grows worse."

Eir hummed in response, and picked up the girl's arm, checking her vitals.

"Have you fed her?"

Loki scoffed at that, crossing his arms.

"I have fed her, seen to her bathing and clothing, and I, the illustrious prince of a fallen world, have cleaned up her sick. I can assure you, she is receiving a level of care that naught but few would feel compelled to administer to myself."

Eir stopped for a moment and peered up at him, at that moment very much reminded of the child she had seen to all those centuries ago.

She smiled ruefully as she considered him.

"Best not get too attached, highness. She is quite far gone in her illness."

"How long have I got?"

Startled, they both turned to Wren who was carefully rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"There is a large, fast growing tumor at the top of your cerebral cortex. With the level of technology at my disposal, I can lessen the growth and keep you comfortably alive for the next few weeks. Although I fear that at some point, you will eventually become comatose." She sighed.

It was Loki to interrupt her.

"Surely something like that can be removed. We have dealt with worse."

Eir shook her head.

"I am not confident that I would not kill her right off. The human body, especially the brain is much to fragile for me to attempt to use any of our equipment on her for more than surface treating."

Loki ran a hand through his hair.

"At this point it would take weeks for me to get a Wakandan representative here, to even evaluate her for treatment, no matter how high their opinion of my brother. They've got enough on their plate, as do we."

Wren interrupted them both. "I thank you for your kindness and generosity, however I have been ill for a long time. I knew that I would not live to see another turn, and yet I am happy to have made it to you all. To at least see that you were warned."

Loki ignored her.

"Although there is someone I know who is handy with the surgical blade. If he would be persuaded to not see it as too much of an encumbrance..." He trailed off before the words "that second rate impostor" fell out of his mouth.

Eir patted Wren's hand.

"We won't give up on you yet, my child. I did not want to get your hopes up, but there is yet a chance that I can shrink the tumor. I also have a rather curious theory as to why it has cropped up in someone so otherwise healthy."

"Oh?" Questioned Wren, although it didn't really seem to matter at this point.

"In my brief studies on mutated humans, I remember there was documented to be a case of a young man with an issue similar to yours. Joshua Foley his name was. It seemed to be that a rather aggressive brain tumor developed in the exact same place as yours at what was documented as the pinnacle usage of his powers. I realize that this is a stretch, but it does merit some looking into. From what I have gathered about the growth rate of your tumor is that it occurred sometime in the past year."

"Most likely 6 new moons or so ago." Wren concurred. "So how did this Foley cure himself? Or did he at all?" She had never been one for details when they sidetracked from the ultimate conclusion.

Eir cleared her throat.

"That knowledge seems to be something of a mystery and what you humans deem as classified. I am still looking into the matter, however, and I am hoping that our-friends- when they arrive will be able to give me more information."

Wren shook her head and sighed. "Please, do not mistake this for a dismissal of the care that you have given me, but I prefer you not waste your time with my trivial life when there is a bigger issue at hand."

Eir balked at her, while reaching into her medicine pouch, bringing forth a vile of liquid.

"Drink this. It should make you feel better immediately. I'm leaving enough for you to have one every time you feel as if you need it."

Wren did as she was told, amazed at how accurate the doctor was.

"Thank you." She whispered, feeling able to rise comfortably to prop herself up for the first time since she had arrived in this house, this village, with these captivating people.

"Whether or not you are ready to die now, little bird, I still have some use of you. You've left many questions unanswered."

For a man who could speak so much, Wren was startled by Loki's voice, remembering that he was still there peering at her from the opposite end of the bed.

She nodded. "Of course."

Satisfied with the seeming energy that had returned to the girl's countenance, Eir put more of the little vials down at her bedside and packed up her things.

"I'll advise you not to use your abilities right now, Gjerdesmett. And eat as much as you can."

She turned to go, stopping at Loki.

"I'll return soon."

He feigned disinterest, as he was wont to do. "See that you do. I'd prefer nothing more than to eject this little vagabond from my home and have my peace returned to me."

She left, and he turned back to the little human, who was now sitting up smiling at him like a loon with her knees under her on top of _his_ bed, feet on _his_ covers, holding _his_ pillow- although she need not know any of that. He had to admit, he had never seen her quite this energetic. Even her scarlet hair seemed a bit more animated.

"You don't mean that." She simply laughed.

He scowled.

"Eir told you not to use your powers."

She laughed again. At him. The infuriating little wretch.

"I wasn't. But now I certainly know my words to be true."

Loki sighed.

"If you feel this lively, then I won't hesitate to put you to work around here."

"Hilda told me you didn't have slaves anymore." She countered, standing for the first time on sure feet.

Loki held back an eye roll.

"Doesn't mean you can't help out. Where do you think you're going? We still have much to speak about."

"I'm hungry again." Was all she replied as she pushed past him out of the room, leaving him yet again aghast at her.

All he could really do was follow.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"I've heard report that the Ex-People will be arriving tomorrow." Thor stood in his modest home, face to the mirror of his washroom, scratching at the beginnings of a beard he had decided most recently to grow.

"X-men."

"Who?" Thor turned, regarding his surly brother sprawled out in his wife's small armchair like some sort of awkward spider.

"Why is it that you retain such a cloying obsession with humans, yet you refuse to properly learn names? Are you actually that daft or do you do it intentionally to vex me?" Loki stood, divesting himself of the uncomfortable position.

Thor shrugged good-naturedly and pushed past him, walking out of the room.

"Perhaps a little bit of both."

Loki sighed, following him into the kitchen, watching as he poured two steaming cups of coffee.

It was their secret thing, the coffee. Thor, of course had been partaking for years, first having tried it back when he had his brief dalliance with the mortal woman, Jane Foster.

Loki came along to it later after much resistance and complaining as he usually did. It wasn't that he couldn't be open minded. He could. For luxury, and pomp, and general nonsense as Thor put it. Anything that was considered to be normal, human, or substandard however, was completely shunned.

Preferences aside, after much haranguing from Thor and his first sip of of a dark, acidic Tarrazu, he found he rather enjoyed the substance, though he would still never admit it to anyone.

"Where is she now?" Thor sat at the kitchen table, setting their drinks down and motioned for his brother to do the same.

"With Hilda." Loki replied. "Whatever medicine that Eir gave her yesterday has been sustaining her quite well for the moment. Hilda thought to show her the forge and some of the town today as long as her energy holds up."

Thor nodded, almost rather sadly.

"Eir gave me the report last night."

"Yes, well, such is the way with mortal creatures. They live but a long instant if they are lucky. This one is not." Loki remained impassive as he drank slowly.

"I know this well enough," Thor sighed. "Have you gathered enough information from her for us to take any sort of action in investigating this threat?"

Loki shook his head.

"I fear that she knows little of what her master had planned aside from the fact that he has it out for you. I am hoping that once the mutant leader arrives, he will be able to glean more from her memories, as I hear he is quite capable in this field."

Thor raised an eyebrow.

"As are you brother."

Loki set his coffee down.

"She has already looked into my mind once. Back at the encampment. It was an experience I would prefer not to have again. Let her own kind have a go at her."

Thor nodded, knowing how temperamental his brother could be concerning real or perceived invasions of his privacy.

"Very well. I am hoping they can investigate this abandoned facility in the mountains as well. I would like to know if there really does exist a being so powerful that they can manipulate time in such a way. Or perhaps it is some sort of illusion." Thor speculated.

"Oh, from the way she speaks, I do believe he is very real." Loki responded.

"Then what does he want with me, with us? My enemies are all long dead."

"I do not yet know. And there is another odd thing that she keeps mentioning." Loki sat back in his chair. "She speaks of artifacts from Asgard. Some sort of prophetic wall hangings that chronicle our lives and this particular fight with her master."

"Yes," remembered Thor. "The tapestries she referred to when we found her. I had originally thought her delirious from the cold, so I dismissed it entirely. What do you think of it?"

Loki shrugged. "I have not heard of a device like it. According to what she told me last night, they would change, almost like a moving picture. She believed that her leader would consult them for clues in his preparations for the attack on us."

Thor was silent for a moment, thinking. His face grew dark.

"The Nornir."

Loki's eyes lit up as he caught on, although he was disappointed he had not thought of it first.

"You think he has discovered a Sjálfvirkur device?"

"It is possible. What do you know of such things?"

"Not much," Loki admitted. "There has not been one discovered since before you or I were alive. What I do know is that it was ascertained that their predictive powers were not reliable enough to make accurate decisions from, as they would change drastically from one person's individual choice to the next. A magnificent example of the typical half-cocked Nornir invention, and probably a prime reason why most of their civilization has died out."

"It could still give our aggressor the upper hand." Thor concluded. "Will we ever have peace, Loki?" He exhaled, glancing to the bedroom where he knew his wife napped, safe for now with his babe in her belly. For the first time in his life, he was starting to feel tired.

"Without chaos, there exists no peace, brother."

Thor smiled wanly. "Until we have a better idea of what to do, I suggest you ready the troops for battle. I will attempt to alert the leaders of this planet that we may have some trouble." A conversation he was not looking forward to.

"I suppose we can be thankful to your Little Bird," Thor smiled. "At least we can prepare ourselves."

Loki harrumphed something about the woman not being "his" anything, and stood, ready to get on with the endless issue at hand.

That night after supper, Wren still felt well enough to join the small group of Aesir as they all sat around a great fire in the square drinking mead while the few children still with them sat sleepily upon their parents laps. They all listened intently as the king entertained them with stories of war and glory, good fortune and loss. He spoke of his younger years, fighting heroic battles against the the Enchantress, Amora and her lovely deceptions. He regaled an account of great length of his fight with the help of the Vikings of old to eliminate the God Killer- an ancient and vengeful alien- from this very planet when he was naught but 1500 years old, cutting the alien's arm off and leaving him dead in a great cave. He spoke of the great rock troll king Ulik whom he had slain for stealing his hammer, and of the fearsome Midgard sea serpent, the Jörmungandr.

All the while, while he weaved his tales, Wren noticed what great care he took to include his most favored sibling, and his clever fighting prowess.

She turned from her place by the fire to look at Loki where he sat at the king's side, a playful glint in his eye, and a laugh in his throat as he chimed in with a witty barb or a joke here and there, and for some reason, it gave her peace to see him this way.

A rustling by her side alerted her to the presence of another, and she turned to see Hilda take a seat next to her.

"Was it really always that way with them?" Wren whispered, not wanting to interrupt, as the audience was quite spellbound.

Hilda smiled as if recollecting some secret memory.

"The battles?" She questioned.

Wren nodded.

"Perhaps there is some embellishment, as is the way in our culture, but they are no less true for it."

Wren smiled, still studying Loki, his features animated as he took over what seemed to be a more recent story of stealing a ship from someone called Grand Master and simultaneously becoming the Savior of All Asgard.

Wren noticed the people began to laugh and listen with almost just as great admiration as they had for their king.

Hilda must have noticed the same thing, for she leaned forward.

"They are beginning to accept him again, to trust. Perhaps not implicitly in their hearts, just quite yet, but they will."

Wren found herself laughing as Loki concluded, Thor rolling his eyes and guffawing for what seemed like the hundredth time during his brother's story.

He looked to her, seeming to hear her voice from the crowd, and she beamed at him with approval.

Eventually, he excused himself to retire for the night and made his way through the small throng of people to them, kneeling at her side.

"Come little bird. The hour grows late, and I'm not sure how much more of Thor's posturing any of us can handle." The merry twinkle was still there in his eye.

He extended a hand, and she took it, rising and saying goodnight to Hilda. The silently walked until they reached the outskirts of the group and began to make their way through the orb lit streets of New Asgard up to his home that, as she had discovered when she left it today, was on the top of the hill.

His home away from everyone else's, she thought.

"Can you make this climb?" He asked, finally breaking the silence.

Although it was slightly steep, the effects of the medicine that she had drank that morning had not seemed to wane quite yet, although she was rather tired from the day.

"I'll be alright." She nodded.

The cold Norwegian air had settled heavily on the night, and while she rather enjoyed it, she still reached up and hooked a shivering arm around his for some comfort from the wind as they walked.

He looked down at her curiously.

"I should be the last person you would want to approach for warmth, kjære ."

She looked up. "Why is that?"

He did not answer, yet he did not push her away, and they continued like that until she felt compelled to break the silence again.

"Loki, why did the God Killer want Thor to die?" She yawned.

"From what I understand, his ignorance was what lead to his lust for vengeance. He believed that the Aesir were something more than what they are. That they could have saved his wife and children as if they were real gods. That they could bring them back from the dead. They could not do either thing."

"That is unfortunate." She replied, her mind attempting to work around the way he had referred to the Asgardians. As if he was separate from them.

"I suppose. However it is more unfortunate to be so stubbornly naive."

"Then why do you call yourselves gods?"

He shrugged.

"Because we are. The Aesir are among the most powerful beings in the universe. They live for thousands of years. They are nearly impossible to kill. But they do die, eventually."

A long buried thought rose into his head, unbidden.

You were born to die.

He shook it away.

He looked down to find that she was regarding him ever more curiously, and he was pleased that they had almost reached the house.

"You refer to the people of Asgard as separate from yourself."

He began to walk a little faster, causing her to struggle slightly to keep up.

"And what of it?"

They finally reached the door, and he waved a hand over it, causing it to slide open.

She yawned again as the tiredness finally settled fully into her bones. Son of Laufey. That's what the Master had called him. Perhaps this meant...

"You are not Aesir." She realized.

He stopped there, in the doorway, hand on the frame looking straight ahead, making her wish she hadn't said anything at all.

"No." He finally replied, pulling away from her and stepping inside. He made his way over to the fireplace at the edge of the living area and flipped up a hidden switch on the wall, igniting the cheery little orange flames into existence.

Wren stepped inside, unable to feel the effects of the fire's warmth, as the chill was palpable in the room.

"I'm sorry." She stammered, unsure of what she was apologizing for.

He looked up finally, unseeing, his eyes lost as if he was in another place and time.

"It's time you get to bed, Gjerdesmett. It will be a long day for you tomorrow. Our mutant friends arrive in the morning."

She nodded, turning to go, then stopped.

"Loki?"

He had already turned back to the fire, but he looked to her, silently hoping that she would terminate this seemingly endless line of questioning about his background.

"Where do you sleep?"

Ah.

She looked down the hall, indicating that she had finally realized that there was one bedroom, one workroom, and one washroom.

He nodded to the long couch that sat under the window. As long as it was, she could not imagine it to have been very comfortable for him these past few days.

"Oh." She shuffled back and forth on two feet unsure of what to say.

He smirked, and she was glad to see he had rounded out of whatever sour mood she had unknowingly caused in him earlier.

"It was either that or let you sleep in the cells. It was my choice. I would rather keep a close eye on you."

She understood what he meant. It was something the Master had always taught them. Keep your enemies close. A watchful eye was the key to a longer life.

No matter the meaning behind his words, she still felt compelled to thank him for his discomfort, and so much to his surprise, he found her bounding up to him and quietly encircling his long waist in the first real hug he had probably received in centuries.

"Ehm." He stood there, still as a statue as the little creature buried her head into his chest for a moment, and then pulled away, retiring to her rooms for the night.

He remained there afterwards in a sort of shocked silence for quite some time, staring into the fire before he finally moved, wandering into his workroom with a sense of urgency that he had not felt for a great long while.


End file.
